>>2039366
>>go home
This looks interesting. We look to be pretty screwed, to say the least. ...Hopefully nobody saw what happened?

>>2039366
>go home

>>2039366 (OP)
>go home

>>2039366
>Check the bodies
Lets see if we can find anything useful off them before we go

>>2039366
>>check the bodies
Psychics?
Psychics!

>>2039366
>run like hell
don't go home, they'll be expecting that.

>>2039366
>>check the bodies

>>2039366
>Check the bodies
may as well take their loot. They will not be needing it. Who knows? maybe we could hide them and this could all blow over....

>>2039366
Check the bodies.

Will probably steal this if OP doesn't return

> mfw this was a quest that ran for about a week or so and then got dropped
> mfw it gets revived only to get immediately dropped this time
> mfw I have no face

>>2039380
>>2039383
>>2039442
>Home

>>2039643
>Run

>>2041019
>>2039904
>>2039802
>>2039495
>>2039448
>Bodies

The death shriek of vermin snaps you out of your thoughts. A Caspian Crawler scurries up the wall. it's albino-like features a stark contrast to the frosted rust encrusted wall. It's red orbs stare at you briefly, it's next meal dangling from poisonous jaws. Just as soon as it arrived it's gone, scurrying through a dilapidated window and into the darkness.

You stagger against the wall, becoming keenly aware of your lack of breathing. Your limbs are heavy with the after-effects of an adrenaline rush, chest heaving as an uncomfortable tingling sensation undercurrents it all. Gathering yourself to the best of your abilities you stagger towards one of the charred corpses. Bile and regret rising in equal measure as you just manage to suppress one of them.

You roll a corpse over with your shoe, hesitant to touch the body. Unfortunately, the display of your newfound abilities managed to burn any identifying features to a crisp. What little skin remains is slagged and fused into itself, the starch white bone of their skull peeking through. You dry-retch as the sight becomes too much. Death is common. Especially in these parts. But this?

This is too much.
Especially when you were the cause.

"Emperor Above..." Pulling yourself together and thankful you didn't eat today you continue the search for clues. Anything that would tell you exactly who these people are. Even though a part of you desperately doesn't want to know. Like the first search, many of the others turn up empty-handed. Your witch-fire melting the features off of the men completely. The only features are what appears to be rubber melted into the throat of one of the men. Were they Augmented?

Whatever clothes they wore was now scorched black and a turn-up pockets revealed shredded flesh beneath. The lack of tattoos or gang heraldry makes it nearly impossible for you to guess if they rummaging within one, however, you do find a small, exploded round engraved with the horned head of some kind of bovine-like creature. You pocket it and return to the search to only end up with singed fingers after touching melted thrones, still hot from the fire. You're guilt and regret not deep enough yet to wonder at the shame and injustice of it.

You stand and prepare, deep in thoughts of flight when your foot crushes on something. Quickly rasing your boot you pry a small white bead out of the grooves on your boot. Wires of several colors dangle from the back of the bead, their ends all equally burnt.

>Take the bead.
>Take the engraved round
>Leave both among the ruins
>Head home.
>Get away from here as fast as possible
>Write-In

>>2048896
>Get away from here as fast as possible

If they stalked you, they probably know where you live. Who knows if your home is under surveillance or not - better not give them the chance to find you again, especially since you've just slagged 4 agents

>>2048896
>Get away from here as fast as possible
Put the round back too. A bovine-like creature?That's some Chaos right there.

>>2049083
>>2049321
You pull away from the scene once more as you drop the bead. An alleyway burnt black by fires of unimaginable temperature, while a frosty icy sheen covers that which remains. Flesh, stone, and metal warped as if their existence offended that of something uncomprehensible. The quiet of it all unnerving you to your core.

The source of it terrifies you once more.

You reach into your pocket, the engraved round's features mocking you. You toss it aside not even remembering taking it. The tingling sensation still present as your mind races. Then your body follows.

You dash out the alleyway. Hoping to leave it all behind and to wake up from this nightmare. You nearly crash into a man hauling cargo from the back of a lift, his screams of promised violence upon you lost as you try to get as far from here as possible.

As your feet and years of experience navigating the suffocating crowds of the hive carries you, thoughts and fears come hurtling back stronger than before.

Who sent the Witch Hunters after you? Were they close by? What should you do? Should you turn yourself in? Wouldn't running make it worse? Would they kill you for something you didn't mean to do? Would they imprison you for the rest of your life? Would your father's or brother's service in His Name mean anything? Where do you go? How long should you run? What do you do?

The maelstrom of thoughts that is your mind only increases in fury as you run. The uncomfortable sensation that rubs against the periphery of your senses pushes harder as your eyes dart back and forth, scanning the innumerable tide of souls for men in black come to consign you to a lifetime of horror and pain.

If they even allow you to live that long.

This isn't how you wanted to live. You considered it to be a blessing to be born, to live, to work, and then die in the Emperor's Name. In honor of the Golden Throne. Instead of on a frontier somewhere lawless, and tribal. You were faithful, you did your job dutifully. You prayed for your brother and father every day as you gave thanks to the Emperor even as you begged forgiveness for being unfit to fight his enemies. Were you not faithful? Have you been forsaken?

Do you turn yourself in? It's undeniably your duty as preached by the priests and scripture. You can flee to the underhive. A realm of infamy and lawlessness where strength is taken and the weak die. But could you of all people survive? You could also try to get off the planet. You only have enough money to live day to day buying passage on a ship would nearly impossible on your pay. Your thoughts come to Jarek. The only friend you have ever known. Perhaps you could confide in him and he'd help you, somehow, someway.

Or you could drag him to the depths alongside you.

>Turn yourself in. The ecclesiarch preaches to be ever vigilant of the mutant, the heretic, and the witch. Even if it's you.
>Flee to the underhives. It would become almost impossible to find you
>Find Jarek
>Write-in

>Turn yourself in. The ecclesiarch preaches to be ever vigilant of the mutant, the heretic, and the witch. Even if it's you.

>>2049614
>Turn yourself in.

>>2049614
>Turn yourself in. The ecclesiarch preaches to be ever vigilant of the mutant, the heretic, and the witch. Even if it's you.

We good boy

>>2049614
>Turn Yourself in.
It is only right. Also- just how powerful are we if we can create that much wytchfire!? I mean obviously to randomly-manifest at that strength we are at least zeta?

>>2049875
Actually- are we a guy or a girl? I don't think OP ever said.

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>>2049715
>>2049750
>>2049805
>>2049945
You're weak.

You're somewhat tall but a rough birth marked you with thin limbs and poor metabolism. Your diet in the lower hives didn't do much to help this. There's only so many thrones you could make here and anything non-recycled would be nearly a year's worth of food for you.

You're not fit for fighting. Your only saving grace would probably be your stamina. Long hours moving and working built up some kind vitality but in comparison to your brother who had more in common with a Grox.

You'd survive only for a couple of days in the underhive at best. At worst you might get enslaved by a ganger and sold to, Emperor knows who and to what end.

You slow down as fear begins to abate and reality sets in. The uncomfortable tingling being buried. You have nearly no resources to name. No contacts, no opportunities, no real barterable skills that would be useful to anyone on a ship heading off world. You have some experience with the arcane menchanicae. But, only under direct supervision from the Mechanicus itself. How do you advertise "46th junior sub-assembler of the 5th production conveyor of the 17th cogwheel factory"?

And Jarek...

He's been too good to you in the absence of your Brother and Father. These past five years would have been intolerable without his helping hand and you can't repay the man like that. Someday you hope to but not like this.

You come to a halt, hivers bumping into you or giving you a wide berth and harsh words as they hurry to and fro. Of all your options only one would make sense. Only one would be right.

"Emperor Protects..." You shakily mumble as you slowly walk into the Cathedral.

Men of the cloth bustle about the grand structure. Hymns and songs blare endlessly on repeat through speakers or from the priests themselves. Once the holy scripture would have put you at ease but now all it does is serve to make the unease you feel in your stomach twist and churn. Looking around you spot the clergyman in charge of filing requests to the Ecclesiarchy.

Your limbs feel heavy with lead as you walk towards him. Your treacherous mind being filled with horrifying results of your confession. The clergyman's pen writes unknown passages only to stop and refill it's contents.

Your footfalls alert him to your presence, his pen dropping as milky white eyes look up at you.

"Yes?" A weedy voice emanates from the blind man. Wispy strands of hair stand out from a spotty scalp. His features worn and rugged. "How may I assist you?"

>Write-In

Got to go to work have a closing shift to do so will be continued tomorrow maybe

>>2050153
Fall to our knees and kowtow.
"Father, I have sinned againt the God-Emperor. I don't know what I had done to be afflicted in such a way but I have come to the realization that I am a psyker at great cost. Men approached me in the alleyway Father, and I unleashed my mind on to them thinking they were muggers and they are now dead. I wish to turn myself in to face the Emperor's justice."

And then raise our heads.

>>2050153
This: >2050188

>>2050188
Support

>>2050188
Support

The codex astartes suport this action

>>2050153
>Fall to our knees and kowtow.
>"Father, I have sinned againt the God-Emperor. I don't know what I had done to be afflicted in such a way but I have come to the realization that I am a psyker at great cost. Men approached me in the alleyway Father, and I unleashed my mind on to them thinking they were muggers and they are now dead. I wish to turn myself in to face the Emperor's justice."
Do not raise our head.

>>2050188
This

>Fall to our knees and kowtow.
>"Father, I have sinned againt the God-Emperor. I don't know what I had done to be afflicted in such a way but I have come to the realization that I am a psyker at great cost. Men approached me in the alleyway Father, and I unleashed my mind on to them thinking they were muggers and they are now dead. I wish to turn myself in to face the Emperor's justice."

>>2051828
>Fall to our knees and kowtow.
>"Father, I have sinned againt the God-Emperor. I don't know what I had done to be afflicted in such a way but I have come to the realization that I am a psyker at great cost. Men approached me in the alleyway Father, and I unleashed my mind on to them thinking they were muggers and they are now dead. I wish to turn myself in to face the Emperor's justice."

>>2050153
>Fall to our knees and kowtow
>"Father, I have sinned against the God-Emperor. I don't know what I had done to be afflicted in such a way but I have come to the realization that I am a psyker at great cost. Men approached me in the alleyway Father, and I unleashed my mind on to them thinking they were muggles and they are now dead. I wish to turn myself in to face the Emperor's justice."

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>>2050153
OP is kill

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Shameless political poster bumping

You fall to your knees.

"Father I..." Your voice cracks as you become even more aware of where you're at. The hymns becoming more oppressive and louder as the moments' pass, beads of sweat forming on your head as your hand's clench. The tingling sensation returns, knowledge of what exactly lurks within you causing your heart rate to slowly increase.

"Speak, my child. What ails you?" The Clergyman asks, sounding concerned.

"I..." A pair of strong, calloused hands rests upon your shoulders. The tingling turning into a buzzing, grating sound. The buzzing lying as an undercurrent to every noise. An echo.

"Speak." He commands, his tone gentle but firm.

"I have sinned." You breathe out, feeling as if you've taken a punch to the stomach. "I have sinned against the God-Emperor."

You stop expecting something. To be struck or reprimanded. Something in response to this confession. HE only maintains his hold on your shoulders.

"I... I don't know what I had done to be afflicted in such a way but I have come to the realization that I... that I... I am a psyker." Your nails dig deeper into your palms. The pain keeping you from hyperventilating. "Men approached me in an alleyway Father, and I... I unleashed my mind on to them thinking they meant to do me harm, to take my life or property. Now they are dead..." You shut your eyes, tears threatening to fall to the pristine marble floors. "I wish to turn myself in to face the Emperor's justice!" You yell.

You couldn't do it.
You couldn't tell him you were approached by Witch-Hunters. The statement in itself would implicate too much. Let-alone your act of murder against the hands of the God-Emperor himself.

Silence fills the chamber. Hymns still blaring from the speakers, the ever-present bustle of clerics in the other parts of the chamber, faint debates raging in unseen auditories, and the distorted buzzing warping all sound.

"These are serious charges." The clergyman says after what feels like an eternity and a half. You flinch at his words, tears begin to creep from your eyes. "One-count of practicing witchcraft and murder of your fellow Imperial citizens. Both of which stains the soul. In many cases, death would be the deserved punishment for your crimes." His grip tightens, a deceptive strength seemingly at his command.

You cringe. It's not fair.
It wasn't your fault!

"I-"

(1/2)

>>2051895
>>2051846
>>2051828
>>2050419
>>2050415
>>2050326
>>2050286
>>2050278
>>2050188

"Rise."

"Huh?"

"Rise, my child." His hands assist and bringing you to your feet. You look down on the old man to see a smile gracing his weathered face.

"I don't understand..."

"Most in your situation do not." He hands you a handkerchief from the folds within his sleeve. You quickly take it and wipe your face. "Most, would perhaps flee, entering themselves into a life of recidivism, heresy, and sedition. If they don't destroy themselves and all those around them with a lack of faith and overabundance of fear." He places a probing hand in front of him, a finger touching your chest. "Few if any turn to faith in this time. Few, turn themselves willingly into the gaze of the God-Emperor."

Emotions overwhelm you. Tears once again gather in your eyes.

"I..." You choke.

"Rejoice. Son of the Emperor. You have not been found wanting." He beams at you.

>"I am not worthy."
>"I have been keeping things from you, father." (Tell him that you killed Witch-Hunters)
>"Thank you, Father."
>"What happens now?"
>Write-In

>>2053024
>>"I have been keeping things from you, father." (Tell him that you killed Witch-Hunters)
I was scared, and I only ask that justice be done, even at the cost of all I am.

>>2053024
>"Thank you, Father."

>"Thank you, Father."

>>2053206
>>2053144
>>2053068
Writing

>>2053242
Please don't tell him about the Witch Hunters

>>2053024
>>"Thank you, Father."

>>2053024
>Thank you, Father

"Thank you, Father!" You blurt out to the short blind man. He places his hands forward to stop you from prostating yourself before him.

"Please, call me Lucerain." He says laughing. Before descending into a fit of coughing. Your face twists in worry as you move to try to assist him.

"Bah." He waves you off. "The rigours of age and experience. Nothing to worry yourself over. Follow me."

You fall behind the old man as he walks out the chamber. Walking amongst the men of cloth once again reinvigorates you. To walk in confidence alongside the holy men as they sing and work tirelessly to refine and spread His Word grants you reserves of strength you thought lost.

And more importantly faith. That strange buzzing sensation gone as you follow Lucerain through the Cathedral.

Imperio Lux is the third largest Cathedral within the give city. The first belonging to the Upper Hive, and the second located in the Lower Hive. While not having the opulent designs and sprawling size of St. Agamemnon, it lacks nowhere else.

Purity seals adorn the miniature fleet of cherubs floating above. Their soft voices soothing you to your core while their visible innocence causes you to avert their gaze. The High Gothic script adorning the many pillars nearly unreadable. Noticing your strain at trying to decipher the text Father Lucerain begins reciting the text as you pass.

You find yourself murmming the words of humility, steadfastness, and faith alongside the man. Engraving them upon your mind for later reflection.

You follow the Father up a set of marble steps to the highest floor. The numerous steps is barely a challenge to you. Years of practice within your own habitat teaching you the proper breathing and pace to set yourself at. You are surprised to see Lucerain manage to keep up with you despite his earlier fit.

Here the sounds of faith are more muted and the infrastructure gives way to a harsher reality then below. Wires criss-cross the entire floor, reminding you of the insides of some metallic beast rather than a Cathedral. Servitors rest at off intervals, unknown machinery protruding from the bottom of their spines extending up to their skull. The emblem of the Mechanicum stamped on their forehead of the eyeless Servitors.

You follow behind the Father yet still, humbled in awe and fear in equal parts. Eventually, your journey comes to an end as Lucerain stops at a wall covered in thick cables.

Sighing he reaches a hand with the cables and knocks on the wall. Several moments pass until the sound of gears turning and grinding together is heard.

A man wearing rusty red and bright green robes pokes his head out the cables.

"Father." The man simply says

"Adept Trsytane." Lucerain responds.

Meanwhile you're barely able to comprehend how he seemingly appeared from a wall of cables.

"I wish to contact the Inquisitor."
(1/2)
Sorry My ISP's service died for whatever reason and ran me in circles with the solution. Will try to run until 1AM EST

You go rigid at the mention of an Inquisitor. The tingling sensation slowly crawls it's way back. The shadows begin to dance and laugh. Calling out to you.

"What message would you have me relay, Father?'"

"Tell him that one of my flock has awoken ."
The bald man stares at you. His eyes containing a glossy sheen. The lighting and his position leaving much of his face obscured in shadow. The darkness curls about his head. Bovine-like horns forming on the wall, framing his head in a horned crown.

Your skin crawls along with the shadows. Energy dancing to a unknown tune, without rhythm and sense. A throbbing pain sprouts behind your eyes.

"A Psyker?" He stress at you for a while longer. "Where are his restraints? He does not appear to be sedated. This is outside of protocol."

"Precisely why I require his presence."

"I see. Message received... Recording end... Categorizing... Your message will be delivered. Please wait the standard amount of time for contact to be established. Thank you for your service." The bald man retreats within the cables.

>"You lied to me."
>"I thought you said I was not found wanting?"
>"I-Inquisitor?"
>"The shadows call me."
>"They dance in his splender."
>"Corruptio, quae in campo."
>"Freedom of the Gears."
>Run
>Kill Lucerain
>Oepn the door.
>Write in

>>2054242
>Corruptio, quae in campo
>"Freedom of the Gears."
Why are these an option?

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>>2054269

Fucking 4chan X

>>2054242
>"I-Inquisitor?"

>>2054242

Something is messing with us.

> Request sedation/restraint until proper authorities arrive

>>2054405
Yeah this is probably the better option.
Switching vote to this.

Writing

You stagger a bit as Lucerain walks past you and back towards the staircase. Shaking your head in an attempt to stifle your ailments you follow the Father.

A Throne-Sworn Inquisitor? You'd hoped to avoid this. But, a part of you always knew this is how'd it end. The shadows continue to whisper in your ears, promising secrets, power, freedom. You feel a cold brush of air on your neck. The servitors all give you an eyeless stare, their chrome skulls following your every movement.

"Father..." You groan. Head pounding as your skin continues to writhe. "I feel ill." You tell him leaning against the railing near the staircase.

Lucerain turns his head towards you, concern painted on his features.

"Come, lean upon me, child. Let me aid you." You'd rather not have to physically rely on the old man but anything to provide relief in this moment. You shuffle towards the blind man and all but fall into his arms. "Easy now. I have you."

You groan as and hold your head. The whispering becoming too loud, too incoherent, too demanding.

Too alluring.

A deep booming voice tells you to seek it out in the lower hive, there you'll find the answers to all your questions. You shudder to think what answers it thinks you want. What questions you haven't thought of.

A voice slow and sweet whispers sweet nothings into your ear. Telling you that your hope in Lucerain is a lie. The cruelest lie you have ever known. Ah, but that is also a lie. There are worse cruelties that are sowed in the garden of hope.

A voice laughs at you. That one such as yourself is trapped in the stoicism of faith. Placing such mundane limits on yourself when there are higher planes of existence to dedicate yourself. Ones too reach if you're of the will.

And another voice, smooth yet severe, fast enough that you barely heard of nut too slow to ignore. It promises you a world that you never knew existed. To be an explorer, a magnate, a king. To release yourself from the trappings of your life. To dine with mortals as a god. Climb the Hive, enjoy all that life has to offer and only then will you see what your missing.

Just reach out, call my name.
Give up.
Fly little bird, fly.
Open the door, break the hinges.

You fall to your knees, overwhelmed.

"TRYSTANE!" Lucerain yells, his voice barely heard over the throng that demands your attention.

A shriek pierces the air, silencing the voices. The servitor's twitch and jitters. Spasms overtaking their systems as screams are ripped from mouthless skulls. Then, just as soon as it started it ends.

Once again they turn to look at you.

The closest marches towards you, their steps getting closer and closer as you suffer.

"My child." Lucerain's voice softly calls you.

All you do is whimper.

(1/2)

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>>2054408
>>2054405
>>2054397
"Shhh." He takes a hold of your head and forces you to look at his smiling face.

"I need you to stand. Whatever your affliction... I... Know the Emperor requires that you stand. Now and forever more you must stand. I shall hold the line." He chuckles at some unknown joke before he releases your head and turns from you.

His hands probe the floor until they come across a rusty pipe.

"Love the Emperor for He is the salvation of mankind." Lucerain begins as the servitor closes upon him.

>Try to stand and Run
>Try to Stand and fight
>Write-in

>>2054668
>I... Know the Emperor
Should be

>I... No. The Emperor.*

>>2054668
>Try to stand and Run
Do it.

>>2054668
>>Write-in
Stand and deflect.

>>2054668
>Stand and Deliver. The Emperor Protects. Ave Imperator.

>>2054668
Alternatively.
>"I hear four voices, Father. They offer me answers...but I never asked any questions. I don't trust them. The words are sweet...but I can feel the poison in their honey. Too loud, too much malice to hide it all...one of them offers answers in the lower hive. One says you are lying. Another mocks my faith. And one...promises the world. Nobility. I do not trust them. My Faith is my Shield. The Emperor Protects."

Just the mindless ramblings of a Newly Born Psyker trying to resist the siren song of Chaos.

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>>2054793
>>2054769
>>2054684
>>2054681
I'd rather one last update before I pass out but I'm failling asleep here and I have work in the morning sorry about that guys will try to write some more tomorrow night around 9 or 10. EST

>"I hear four voices, Father. They offer me answers...but I never asked any questions. I don't trust them. The words are sweet...but I can feel the poison in their honey. Too loud, too much malice to hide it all...one of them offers answers in the lower hive. One says you are lying. Another mocks my faith. And one...promises the world. Nobility. I do not trust them. My Faith is my Shield. The Emperor Protects."

>>2054793
>>"I hear four voices, Father. They offer me answers...but I never asked any questions. I don't trust them. The words are sweet...but I can feel the poison in their honey. Too loud, too much malice to hide it all...one of them offers answers in the lower hive. One says you are lying. Another mocks my faith. And one...promises the world. Nobility. I do not trust them. My Faith is my Shield. The Emperor Protects."

>>2054988
>>2055087
You guys, The father has no time for that shit as he's about to get squashed by Chaos servitors.

>>2055176
Oh shit, I completely missed that.
>Stand and Fight
I thought it was fighting against the Priest, who was about to brain us.

>>2054668

> Stand and Fight

But don't let loose, we can't afford collateral damage here.

>>2054668
>> Stand and Fight

>>2055184
Changing to
>Stand and Fight

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>>2054668
>Stand and Fight

>>2054793
Support

Changing my vote from This >2055724 to this >>2054793

>>2054668
> Stand and fight

>>2054668
>Stand and Fight

Changing to
>Stand and fight

Good news I can run tomorrow

Bad news I can't run tonight as I picked up another closing

I am wage slave incarnate

Kill me

>>2057298
Keep flaking and we just might

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Believe in the emperor for he protects

The servitor lunges at the Father. Its mouthless shriek reverberates off the forest of cables, distorting further and causing you even more pain. The Father holds up his rusty pipe, blocking the grasping thin hands of the servitor.

"Obey His words, for He will lead you into the light of the future." Lucerain continues, holding his ground against the servitor. Like a beast, it snarls and snorts in impotent frustration.

With a grunt, the Father steps aside from the struggling servitor, sending it tumbling to the ground. A vicious blow to the back of it's chromed skull follows. Lucerain's rains of blow shatter the pipe in his hands and the servitor's skull. It's bodily movements seizing altogether.

"Heed His wisdom," With the death of one the rest of the Servitor's surge towards the priest. the horde stumbling upon themselves to reach him. The father picks up two shattered pieces of pipe and plants his feet. "For He will protect you from evil!"

You are humbled.

Father Lucerain, the blind old administer of fights like a man possessed. The first Servitor that reaches him finds it's chest impaled with the jagged end of his pipe. It's spasms dying down soon after. The second charge him, throwing its entire body in a headbutt.

"Whisper His prayers with devotion, for they will save your soul!" He pivots, slamming the pipe into the servitor's head, sending it sprawling over you and down the steps. One tackles him and attempts to overpower him. Instead of fighting against it he stabs it in the back of a knee, white fluids spurt from the wound as it falls to a knee before the murder stroke is delivered upon it.

A servitor roars, it's armed bulging obscenely with new mass. Its arms burst apart in white gore, wires and chromed bones forming vicious blades. It becomes a flurry of slashes the old man has no chance of dodging and begins a desperate defense. A line of blood forms on his cheek, then his heavy brown robes are sliced apart, bloody gashes drawn across his body. The Father is pushed back inch by inch until his back hits a wall.

The servitor screeches and drives both blades to his chest. Lucerain drops to the floor as the blades embed themselves in the cables. Electricity courses through its body, frying innards, and machinery alike. Its body eventually dropping in a smoking heap, still twitching.

The old man breathes, heavily. clutching his chest as another approaches him. The rest simply watching his weakness. His robes fall to the floor, revealing a tattered tunic underneath. His body is adorned with numerous scars. Age does nothing to hide or dismay the lean muscle attached the man's frame. His arms are decorated with tattoos of unknown numbers and names. He stumbles back, engulfed by another fit of coughing. What malevolent power guides the servitors senses this, and surges forth once more.

I may have overdid it as an apology for flaking

(1/?)

Your mind, no your soul screams at you to move. The voices are drowned out by your panic as you jump to your feet. It's a desperate charge, lacking in finesse or strength but it's all you have and you'd be damned if you gave any less for the Father. You tackle the servitor, knocking it to the ground in a sprawl of confused limbs and sharp pain. They're a lot heavier than they look.

You struggle against the superior strength of the servitor. It takes all you have and more to keep it's clawing hands away from your face and your throat, even then it's not enough. The servitor's hands break your meager defense and locks around your throat. Cold, clammy hands wring the life from you, the servitor rolling you to the ground as it strangles you.

Your chest burns. You claw at the servitor trying to free yourself. Tears well in your eyes as the hold of the servitor increases, blackness plays at the edge of your vision. The voices returning to scold you and laugh. To welcome you home. Your vision goes dark.

"Is that all you have baby brother."

You open your eyes to see your Older brother standing over the Servitor's shoulder. His hair is shorter than yours and more unkempt, but the resemblance between you two is almost uncanny. Where you were cursed with poor physique he was blessed with natural strength and muscle.

I tried, Luther.

You really did. Harder than you have ever done anything in your life.

"See, now I know that is a lie. I know you baby brother. I know what's inside of you. I know the person you are."

Dead. You're dead. Your brother is Emperor's knows where and has been gone for six years with no word. How else would you see him now of all places?

"Am I? Are you? Get up baby brother."

I can't.

"Get up."

I... Can't.

"Get up. Get up Kal."

I...

"GET UP."

Your eyes snap open as your hands search the ground by you. Your hands are singed by something, ignoring the heat and the pain you grab hold of it. You drive it into the side of the Servitor, it's hands coming loose as you stab it with the remains of the bladed servitor. You follow up, pulling the metal coated bone free and drive it again and again into the servitor. White fluid splashes on your face and soaks your clothes as you scream and cry.

Breathing hard you stand to your feet, arms shaking, clothes drenched in a mixture of fluids. You hold your shaking hand with the other and grip the blade tighter. Standing firm while you stare down the rest of the servitors.
(2/?)

"I... I hear four voices, Father." You smile, laughing to yourself at the impossibility of it all. "They offer me answers...but I never asked any questions. I don't trust them. The words are sweet...but I can feel the poison in their honey. Too loud, too much malice to hide it all...one of them offers answers in the lower hive. One says you are lying. Another mocks my faith. And one...promises the world. Nobility." You hold your head and shake it loose of the voices of the pain. "I do not trust them. My Faith is my Shield. The Emperor Protects."

"Tremble before His Majesty," The Father's soft voices is heard behind you. His hand resting on your shoulder.

"For we all walk in his immortal shadow." You both repeat. The hymnal taught to you by your Father as a youth remembered after all these years.

"Stand tall, Child. for you will not fall. To these abominations or the ones that would seek to prey on your faith. Stand tall, child."

The Servitors shriek again before they charge once more. You hold onto the blade tighter now, ready for whatever comes next. The outcome doesn't matter. You had faith, you stood. Let them come. Let them die.

The cables in the wall pulse with green energy, hunger flickers of electricity. They lash out at the nearest servitor, reducing it to slag in moments. The cables shoot forth grabbing and restraining them. Some fight back, and they die. Ripped apart in mechanical fashion, strangles, decapitated, whipped apart. The thickening cords of cables resembling muscles as they go about their grisly work.

The Father laughs as you watch in morbid fascination. The cables part once more revealing a hunched figure. An emerald green and rusty red-robed figure shuffle towards the two of you. Tensing up you prepare for another enemy only to see the same glossy eyes of Adept Trystane.

"Abhorrent subdued... Initiating Sedatives... Begining diagnostic... Complete.... Interesting."

"What took you so long Trystane. I feared for you." Father Lucerain says.

"Unnecessary Emotion. My quarters are like a fortress of my own ingenuity. As long as power swells in the Cathedral I will endure."

"What has happened to these Servitors."

"Unknown... But fascinating." Curiosity drips from the Tech-Priest's voice as he caresses the skull of a Servitor. A needle protrudes from his voluminous robes and inserts into its skull.

"This isn't the time for that Trystane. I need answers."

"As do I. Requisitioned communicator class servitors should not be this malleable. Had I permission to upgrade this would never have happened."

"Trystane." The father calls out impatiently. Trystane turns his head to look at the two of you.

"Sabotage. Espionage... Techno-Virus... Implication... Heretek presence within Hive... Suggested Action... Crusade, Purge."

(3/?)

>>2054681
>>2054684
>>2054769
>>2054793
>>2054988
>>2055087
>>2055184
>>2055191
>>2055199
>>2055306
>>2055724
>>2056225
>>2056770
>>2056790
>>2056847
>>2056916
"Noted. Can you find the origin?"

"It will take some time... I already risk damaging further systems through such crude interface. Lobotomy recommended, tests, further analysis."

"I see. Has the Inquisitor been warned?"

"I have been recording everything since the arrival of the Psyker... Analysis. Elevated heartbeat, uneven breaths, fear. Recommended sedation... Extermination to prevent warp anomaly."

You take a step back in fear and Lucerain stops you.

"He is my responsibility, let me worry about him."

"I see..." His eyes study you longer. "The Inquisitor is aware of all events and is making haste to the planet... ETA... One local day."

"Good. I believe we are left with more questions than answers at the moment."

"Inquisitor is to inquisite." Static rumbles from the Tech-Priest... Is he laughing."

"Your jokes are still horrible." The father sighs as the priest continues to... laugh? "Still, it is worrying that such a thing occurred here of all places."

"I have several hypotheses... One, Heretek is located within this cathedral... Two, Heretek intercepted transportation of servitors..." He looks at you. "Three, Psykers presence has attracted a warp anomaly already."

"Is that possible?" Lucerain asks, his voice tinged with concern. You can't tell who for.

"Yes... I have documented exactly seventeen cases of such phenom."

"Worrying. But something we need to discuss with the Inquisitor."

"Indeed. I shall return to my studies and send word when the Inquisitor arrives."

"Thank you, Trystane."

"Ommnisiah guide your steps." The priest bows to him

"Yours as well." Lucerain makes the sign of the Aquila and leaves the tech-priest to himself. You quickly follow behind him, running down the steps.

>"Who are you, Father?"
>"D-Did I do this?"
>What do we do now?"
>"What's a Heretek?"
>Write-in.

>>2058919
"Who are you, Father?"

>>2058919
>"What do we do now?"

>>2058919
>>"D-Did I do this?"

>>2059075
>>2058993
>>2058991
Writing

To say you're shaken would be an understatement. So much has happened within one day that you wonder if it was a dream. The fluid covered bade in your hand says otherwise. As does the shaking.

Taking a deep breath you look to Lucerain. Once again he descends the staircase without so much as a complaint. Physical or verbal. Your eyes are drawn again to the numerous tattoos and scars covering his body, as well as the shape of him. You'd think he'd was just an old, blind man.

"Father?"

"Yes?"

"Who are you?"

"Ho, why, I'm just a lowly Preacher in the grand scheme of things." He chuckles.

"I doubt a lowly, preacher could move like that. Or looks like... You."

"A fair assumption. I wasn't always a preacher. Once, I was in the Guard. For twenty years I served loyally, faithfully to the Throne and the Guard."

"Aren't those the same thing?"

"Sometimes... Paths deviate, they blur from one another, my child." He stops on the steps for a moment, lost in thought. Shaking his head he continues. "Either way, I did my duty with pride. For twenty years I fought the alien, the traitor, and the heretic." His face contorts in disdain at the last.

"The tattoos and scars then?"

"Mostly. As for the eyes, what? I know you were curious. Lost against the Orks. My regiment was bombed, I got caught up in it. Couldn't afford any form of replacements and guilt ate away at the commander of the regiment so he sent me home. I wonder how ol' Nerom is doing these days. Good man, if a terrible drinker."

"I'd guess you'd be happy to head back and see your home again." You wince as you realize what you just said.

"I was quite the hothead when I was younger. Just disappointed and dejected. I wanted to fight, to spread the Emperor's name, to cast down false idols, to honor everything he has ever done for Humanity and me. Until I realized that there were other ways to fight this battle of mine. Ever since I've been a true adherent to the faith. Ironic that going blind made me see more clearly than ever."

You're quiet for a while. Silently thinking about your brother and his fate. Wheather you really saw him or whether you were having a vision inspired by your shared natures. You whisper a silent prayer to the Emperor for his sake.

"So what do we do now?"

"Now? Now we keep you safe. You're to remain here until the Inquisitor is to arrive. You will be accompanied by several of the faith at all hours to keep you safe."

To keep others safe he means.

"And what about what just happened? We're to just do nothing?"

"That's in Adept Trystane's capable hands. There's not much else we can do but trust him. Ease, lad. All will be well. I have faith"

(1/2)

>>2058991
>>2058993
>>2059075
"Even if the cause is right next to you?" Lucerain stops on a landing a few flights from the second floor. His milky eyes search your face. You're forever unnerved by the fact that he can find your eyes even while blind. Or seemingly use no walking aids. He walks to you and holds a hand out. You drop the blade into it. Just realizing that you're armed.

Inside a Cathedral.

And you're a witch.

"Come again?"

"All I'm saying is..." You find it hard to meet his gaze. "` Could I... D-Did I do this?"

"Did you inject a techno-virus in the Servitors?"

"Wha- No! Of course not!"

"Then what do you mean?"

"I'm a witch. This stuff doesn't just randomly happen. I'd have to have something to do with this?"

"And so what if you did? Do you think I should punish you?"

You're silent as you mull his response.

"What matters is that you put yourself in danger for not only me but this entire cathedral. Who knows what would have happened had we not been there."

"But Adept Trystane-"

"Is incredibly competent, indeed. But, he is only one man with his own limitations. Did he immediately spring to our aid?"

"No."

"For good reason too. As you heard that show of his prowess was directly linked to the Cathedral's power supply. No doubt a couple of hundred priests are lost in the dark as of now."

"I... I see."

"Listen, to me. Carve these words upon your heart. Much is demanded to those whom much is given. I want you to reflect on those words on your own." With that, he continues his descent.

Eventually, the two of you reach another chamber on the first floor of the cathedral. This one deeper than you've trodden so far. Lucerain instructs you to wait on a bench outside of the chamber. You distract yourself y watching the ceremonies of the day play out inside an auditorium across the hall.

Several speeches and debates later Lucerain return to you accompanied by five women. Three of whom, immediately begin to scowl at you.

"This is where we part ways, lad." He holds a hand out to you and you're reluctant to shake.

"Why?"

"I have other duties and as much as I would prefer to stay by your side I can't shirk from them. These women will escort you to your lodgings and watch over you. In the meantime continue to think on my words. I'll see you once the Inquisitor returns. Ave Imperator."

"Thank you, Father." You make the sign of the Aquilla.

"No, thank you, young man. You have given this old man a lesson or two." With that, he chuckles and leaves you.

One of the women steps forwards. Her hair is shoulder-length brown curls, framing a youthful face. Green eyes staring at you impassively. A stark contrast to few of her fellows.

"My name is Sister Catherine and we will be taking over your supervision until the Inquisitor is to arrive. You are to not leave the premises and you are to report everything thing that occurs to you. Is that clear?" She finishes.

>"Am I a prisoner?"
>"Yes."
>Write-In

>>2059351
>"Yes."
>"I have already told the Father, but I feel I should inform you as well. When I was...tempted, earlier, one of the...voices, told me to go to the Lower Hive. I don't know where, exactly, and I don't intend to find out, but you seem like someone who should know."

>>2059351

> Yes

But
>>2059367

Perhaps we shouldn't tell everyone we meet, especially a kill team, that we've got spooky voices in our head. Might want to keep that under wraps until the inquisitor gets here.

>>2059369
Fair. The Father will likely remember to tell the Inquisitor, who will conduct a purge of any local cults with the assistance of Trystane. Two leads on heretics in a single Hive, it'll be like Sanguinala come early.

Writing

>>2059351
"Yes."

>>2059367
>>2059369
>>2059547
"Yes."

You answer curtly and with as much respect as possible.

These aren't ordinary women. These are Adepta Sororitas. Wearing Flak armor embossed with the golden sun on their right breast, chainswords attached to the hip, and bolt pistols mark them as something much greater than they appear to be. At the sound of your voice, they all reach a hand to either weapon. You flinch.

"Sisters. Fall in." The women surround you on all sides and begin leading you deeper into the Cathedral.

Whereas before you were largely ignored save the odd glance here or there or a greeting as a passerby conversed with Lucerain, now you're given stares of varying intensity. You see hate, fear, paranoia. Clergymen whisper to themselves as you pass only to silence and scatter once you're within earshot. Pockets of noise instantly becoming silent as you try your best to keep up with the pace of the sisters.

It's only once that you hear something.

"Witch." A simple statement.

Nor is the claim particularly wrong.

But, to have men of the cloth throw the word at you, dripping with maliciousness is enough to give you pause. One of the sisters pushes you forward.

"Keep moving, witch." She hisses at you.

Eventually, you reach a vault door, guarded by a set of heavily armed Sisters. Their Bolt rifles shining as gold as the vault door. Without a word, they move from the door as it opens seemingly on its own. The pneumatic hiss, of the mechanism releasing gas into the air. You're greeted with an intense heat as you're led inside.

The six of you pass several doors from which the sounds of quiet faith reside. As well as the occasional screams of pain. The heat becomes more and more uncomfortable as the moment's pass. The sisters, however, seem entirely nonplussed by it. Soon you reach a bare door, in stark contrast to some of the heavily ornated doors you passed. Some depicted great battles, others a glorious sun rising above a tide of darkness, and some a throne of fire. This metal door is somewhat disheartening.

Not to mention foreboding.

You're led inside by three of the sisters while two remain outside. Inside is a single bed and nothing more. The room is even less spartan than your own lodgings. You don't see any lavatories, no sink, fridges, nothing save for the bed.

"You are to remain here until the time that the Inquisitor arrives the head sister says. With that the three take up positions, standing in front the door.

>Ask a question (What?)
>Try to sleep
>Write-In

>>2059747
>Can I have some bread? I missed my morning ration and it's...been an eventful day since.

>>2059747
>Pray to the Emperor

>>2059747
>>2059774
Seconding this, to avoid dissension.

The atmosphere is oppressive. The heat is arid and dry, the dull spartan room a lifeless color, and the stares of the Soritas unnerving. You pull at your clothes, your work shirt and pants sticking to you as sweat begins to pour off your body. The thinness of the air has your breathing erratic and your thoughts are unfocused.

You find yourself pouring over all the details of everything that has happened so far. From the men, you accidentally burned in the alleyway, their equipment, the bovine engravement, the strange bead, the visions, the whispering shadows, the beserk servitors, and finally the Inquisitor.

There are things about the Hive that you could never imagine happening. Things that are bigger than you, stranger things that threaten your sanity. Just imagining those whispered lies makes you shudder and you force your thoughts elsewhere.

Much is demanded, to those whom much is given.

The words of Father Lucerian still resonate with you and at this moment only one thing seems right.

You fall to your knees and begin to pray. You ask the God-Emperor for many things. For wisdom to make the right decisions, strength to see them through, knowledge to no longer be lost in the dark, and peace of self. But what can you offer him? You promise many things. Faith, loyalty, humility, mercy, kindness. Anything that would be of use to him and the Imperium at large. Then, you're thinking of your family.

Your brother, Luther.
Your father Kaller.

Both of their services have been given to the Imperium. As far as you know. The Guard protects the Imperium and fights your enemies. But what of the witches? You knew your brother was different. He always seemed to know exactly what you wanted or was thinking about, to find things that no one else could. There were days when he'd seemed to talk to himself or just stare into the distance as if comprehending something beyond himself.

But he was your brother.

Your Grox-headed brother. He'd do anything for you and you in return, with varying degrees of success. You knew the day would come where he would just disappear one day. After your father gave himself to the Guard and the Imperium you dreaded the day he'd be gone. When it happened you weren't surprised. The stories of people disappearing to men in black, or vanishing without a trace were commonplace.

You weren't surprised. You were devastated.

Now, in his shoes, you wonder what he thought, how he felt when they came.

(1/2)

>>2059836
>>2059774
>>2059762
You ask the Emperor for a favor. Something so selfish it burns a hole in your heart.

Keep them safe. Guide them. Let them be alive.

You pray for an unknown amount of the time. Soon the heat passes, you've been used to horrible conditions such as this in your workplace. Hells, it even smells better here. You instead focus all on your prayers, contemplating future and past decisions, asking for guidance, promising service. Eventually, it all becomes a stream of consciousness. Guided by the heat that soon becomes comfortable. Your heart stirs with heat and energy. You feel light-hearted but somehow at peace. Your consciousness spreads.

Even through closed eyes, you can "see". You can see the room in blurry quality, the stories on vigilant watch, your praying form, the shining brilliance of faith. All of it is shown to you, your senses extended beyond yourself but feeling none to unfamiliar. Like an old friend returning after a long absence, you feel joy.

>Try to look further out
>Try to direct your senses somewhere (Where)
>Try to stop yourself.
>Write-in.
(2/2)

>>2060131
>A bright light with nothing else merely beckons that which lurks in the dark. Your Faith is your Shield. Make it so.

>>2060152
Supporting

>>2060131
>>A bright light with nothing else merely beckons that which lurks in the dark. Your Faith is your Shield. Make it so.

You marvel at the feeling. But find yourself lost in the sights. Everything is as is seeing for the first time. Like a veil placed upon your eyes all your life has been lifted ever so slightly. You see waves of formless, colorless energy spiraling about with no patterns, random sprites probing emptiness before vanishing the moment you look at it. Through the foggy blurriness, you see dancing motes of light, contorting around voids of color.

You want to make everything clear, to see with the full extent of your vision. To lose yourself in its majesty and beauty. Everything enthralls you and begs for your attention. Especially, the brilliance of faith. It lies on a spectrum. From a pitiable dull sheen all there way to a shining radiance that hurts to look at.

Curiosity burns you and demands that you look at everything, that you extend yourself and prod at it. But, something nags at you. A distant memory feeling of a life already lived. A man stands alone in an alley flanked by three others. He turns, fears wrought on his features. Words are said, lost to his fearing mind. The temperature drops, flames of altering colors lick forth, seemingly conjured from nothing. The men are engulfed in the flames, they consume their bodies with an otherworldly hunger. The man watches in terrible horror and dawning realization.

Then another scene. A being of gold fights against formless spirits of nothing. Shadows play at the edges of their fight, each clash of gold upon colorless causes shadows to twist and dance. They converge towards a man on the floor, teasing and exploring him as he bleeds fear. You watch the scene play out again. This time the man's own radiance begins to build. Nearly matching that of the other's as he stands and launches himself into the fray. The shadows and whisps shying away or disintegrating in their radiance.

It is then you realize what you must do.

Faith is your shield.
Faith is your sword.

Armed and armored in both fear and doubts are blunted against the faithful. You think of the Emperor, what you would do for him if asked. What you do without being asked. Of everything, he has done for you, nay, for the Imperium for the countless millenniums. Your heart soars as you're reaffirmed once more. The room beginning to glow slightly brighter by your slowly gathering faith.

"Betwixt the wash of the river and the waft of the wind, let my sins be transfigured to virtues." You silently whisper to yourself.

(1/2)

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>>2060618
>>2060299
>>2060152
Your eyes open, with the slowness of one aroused from slumber. Your body aches slightly and you yawn, stretching. Only to find your hands and legs restrained.

Your eyes jot open as you feel a familiar feeling settle in your stomach as you take in your surroundings. Everything is dark. Everything saves for a single bulb of light hanging above your head. You look down to find your hands strapped to a cold iron chair, and the same resistance meets your legs as you try to break free.

"Catechism of Hagia, Book I, Chapter 3, verse Thirty-Two." A male voice says walking towards you. Boots hit a metal floor, the sound of the footfalls reverse all around you. "I didn't expect a learned man in this part of the hive."

"Where am I." You ask. How the hell did you get out of the Cathedral? Could you still be? If not how did they move you? Were you drugged?

"Where you are is of no concern." The voice says from your right. "But what you are is." You hear from behind you, a heavy emphasis on the what.

"Kal of Sub boulevard six-dash-two, one, eight. A worker in the seventeenth cogwheel factory. Son to, as of this, Sergent Kaller of the Malfian Fourth Light Infantry." The voice says in front of you.

"Who are you? How do you know this?" You ask, eyes frantically searching.

"It says here that you proclaimed to a Father Lucerain that you were now a witch. Information obtained by you when you supposedly incinerated would be muggers in an alleyway. Local surveillance shows this to be several blocks away from your worksite. However, preliminary investigation yielded no corpses or signs of warp energies. Then, on the same day, you and Father Lucerain were assaulted by Techno-Virus infected Servitors. Which you risked your life to kill. Something Adept Trystane says was unnecessary yet you defied logic and did so."

You remain silent as you slowly begin to realize the situation you're in.

"You both seemed to get attacked at an awfully convenient time."

"I... I hear four voices, Father. They offer me answers...but I never asked any questions. I don't trust them. The words are sweet...but I can feel the poison in their honey. Too loud, too much malice to hide it all...one of them offers answers in the lower hive. One says you are lying. Another mocks my faith. And one...promises the world. Nobility. I do not trust them. My Faith is my Shield. The Emperor Protects." You hear a distorted recording of yourself.

"A faithful witch? Throne on Terra I have seen everything." The man laughs.

"You're the Inquisitor." You breathe.

The man walks in front of you, into the light. You see a man with a rugged face. His beard and hair equally cropped short, his head is scarred not only by battle but age and stress.

"And you're the Faithful." The derision in his tone evident. "There's a lot of explaining to be done" he growls in your face.

And with that I'm done.

>Will I continue this?

Idunno it was just something I randomly did to get back into writing I barely have enough time to write the main thing I'm writing elsewhere

>>2060699
Well fug

>>2060887
Will archive it though

>>2060699
I'd like to see where this goes to be honest. This is pretty damn well done so far.

What our psyker rank , will we roll for it ?

>>2060699
This was fun. I'd love to see more, personally.

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Thread archived http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Psyker

>>2061135
Idunno mang I literally literally made all of this up from the jump. I'd probably do a rol with a bonus because of your faith

>>2061313
Rolls a 100
Became a alpha + super faithful psyker , meet the emperor hes chill , becomes super bro

>>2061348
Knowing the usual luck we'll roll a critfail.

>>2061491
Soo we became a blank

>>2061313
Do you intend to run more of this at some point?

>>2061941
quest is kill

>>2061941
Honestly I don't know.

I've always wanted to do a 40k quest but never had the time to and when I saw this and niggas getting blueballed I was like fuck it and just stole it.

I archived it for that specific reason

Anyway here's my twitter I'll announce if I ever have the time to run this again there

https://twitter.com/Caribbean_Anon